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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189875">90: Ticks and Talks and Little Clocks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/allislaughter/pseuds/allislaughter'>allislaughter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wordplay: So Love Us Till Sunset [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Canon, Gen, POV Third Person, Present Tense, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:01:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/allislaughter/pseuds/allislaughter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A synth wakes up to his ghoul boss trying to sneak a ticking box into his room and is not happy about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wordplay: So Love Us Till Sunset [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>90: Ticks and Talks and Little Clocks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story contains Spoilers for the fanfiction <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23076688/chapters/55201936">The System is Rigged</a>. It takes place in TSiR's version of the wastelands, and therefore there are elements mentioned in this fic that were invented for TSiR and are not canon compliant.</p>
<p>The original tumblr post for this fic can be found by <a href="https://glitchvault74.tumblr.com/post/626787622673678336/42-a-ticking-wristwatch-90-yeet-the-boi">clicking here.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ninety doesn’t have many things that belong to him. One set of dark clothing, a knife, and a scar on his face that one Rig Miller never had. It’s enough to make him different from the person he was based on, to say nothing about the differences in personality. It’s not like the Pits had a brain scan of the still-living Rig Miller to use for Ninety’s memories. No, they made him his own “person” for all that he’s a synth and not people...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...Ninety doesn’t try to question where his pre-established knowledge of things came from. The Pits is too disorganized to have answers, and he’s not supposed to exist and would land the Pits in hot water with the Institute if they find out their red-headed step-child of a satellite campus made a synth without permission and sent him off into the wastelands on the off-chance of getting answers from a centuries old ghoul. Really, it’s for the best. Stay ignorant and deal with far less stress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But all the same, the ghoul he’s based on and now works for owns most of everything Ninety interacts with on the day-to-day. The suit he wears for nights at Club Heavenly... The helmet he wears when outside the old hotel during sunny days... Ninety himself... Well, technically, the Pits owns Ninety, but he isn’t exactly on Angle’s payroll despite all he does for Angle, despite being his “right hand man”. Obtuse at least is both a hired goon and the Club’s bassist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Acute</span>
  </em>
  <span> just lazes about with his girlfriend and acts as the face of the operation, yet he still gets paid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, naturally, Ninety waking up to Angle trying to sneak a ticking box on his dresser puts him on high alert of whatever time bomb the ghoul’s trying to kill him with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, dammit,” Angle curses. “You woke up too soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, dammit, Ninety thinks. His knife is too far away to grab.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, no point in wasting this,” Angle says. He holds the box out and Ninety looks from it and up to Angle and back several times as Angle grins at him. “Happy anniversary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...What?” Ninety asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your birthday isn’t the same as mine, I assume,” Angle says. “So I couldn’t get you a birthday gift since, well, don’t know when that is. But I did some searching in my records and it’s been about a year since you joined the operation. So... Happy anniversary. Here’s your gift. Now are you going to stop staring and take it, or do I need to give it to Acute who won’t appreciate its value nearly as much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ninety furrows his brow. “A... gift...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Angle says. “Because— Well, I’ve told you about Apollo. I guess I’m sentimental enough to miss getting him gifts... And you’re my right-hand man. Figured I could start giving you things instead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Oh,” Ninety says. He gingerly takes the box and opens it. The ticking inside chirps from the belly of a freshly polished pocket watch. He picks it up and opens it, and the hinge pops open to show him that it’s much earlier in the day than he wants to be awake... and to show him a faded picture cut out to fit the inside of the watch like it’s a locket. “...Is this...?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I kept this for a long time,” Angle says. “Kept it running for years, kept that photo safe... I told you so much about him, but never showed you what he looks like...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ninety already knew who the photo was of, but that just confirms it. Apollo Ray. He closes the watch and holds it in his hand, feels the steady rhythm of ticking in his palm like a person’s pulse. “...And are you... letting me borrow this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Angle snorts and grins. “Do you not know what a gift is? It’s yours. You own it. You can keep the picture too. Not like I don’t have others hidden around. It’s...” Angle looks away, takes on that wistful look he gets whenever he talks about Apollo. “I have other time pieces. I can part with that one. But you’re the only one I’ve talked to about him. No one else wants to hear about the man I loved but could never win over and lost when the bombs fell. I never even got to say good-bye, running off like I did the month before... It’s hard, losing everyone you ever knew and cared about. Harder still, when you look back with nothing but regret that you didn’t even leave a note. He must have been so worried...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ninety frowns. “...So what are you saying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Just that,” Angle starts. “Just that you’d probably be the only one to appreciate the significance of this. Of what’s inside. That I trust you enough with it that it’s now yours to keep. That’s all. Happy anniversary, Ninety. I’ll let you get back to sleep, you fucking night owl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ninety frowns. “Right...” He watches Angle turn away. Before he even registers what he’s doing, he reaches out and grabs onto Angle’s sleeve. He freezes when Angle looks back at him. “I— I just... I mean...” He swallows. “Thank you...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Angle grins. He gives Ninety a small salute and exits the room, shutting the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ninety holds on tight to the watch... Something new that’s his and his alone...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scowls and shoves it in the bottom drawer of his nightstand and shoves a spare pillow over it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only the ticking wasn’t so </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying.</span>
  </em>
</p>
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